


first rate idiot

by OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Newton Geiszler, Temporary Amnesia, This is so fucking self-indulgent, hermann's ooc for a bit but it makes sense in context, like SO oblivious, newt does stupid things but it turns out alright in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: He’s just about to spear another dumpling when, unexpectedly, a pair of chopsticks grabs it right out of his bowl, and he looks up to find Hermann contentedly nibbling away at it.He makes an offended expression. “Dude?Seriously?” he whines, “I was going toeatthat.”“Not anymore, you’re not,” Hermann says, and steals another one as Newt sputters at him, and they nearly get into an argument about it then and there, before, of all things, Hermann shrugs and says “I’ll just order you some more.”Eventually, though, they settle into something almost like small-talk, and Newt finds himself smiling at Hermann’s words. “This is nice,” he says, half-forgetting he’s not alone.Hermann gives him a quizzical look. “Like I said, we don’t usually get along,” Newt explains, and gives a single-shouldered shrug.“I still can’t believe that,” Hermann says, “but alright. I’m rather enjoying this as well.”
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	first rate idiot

**Author's Note:**

> this is the product of much yelling at/with [@buttfucknowhere-spaceville](https://buttfucknowhere-spaceville.tumblr.com/). have fun. also i'm stealing newt [@bae-science](https://bae-science.tumblr.com/)’s oc anako for this because i can

The thing is. The thing is, it’s Newt’s fault.

Hermann’s always harping on about Newt’s absolute _mess_ of the portion of the lab on his side of the line, and, as much as Newt loudly denies it, he has to admit, at least in the privacy of his own mind, that he _is_ pretty...disorganised. And, yeah, he could _probably_ stand to tidy it up, but, like, come _on,_ he just saved the _world_ a few months back—he’s still pretty stressed and used to not having the time to tidy things up.

 _Anyway_.

If he had tidied his side of the lab up like Hermann has asked him to a thousand times before, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

But—Newt is Newt, and he doesn’t clean up his side of the lab, and when Hermann comes over to talk to him, he _doesn’t_ catch sight of the spot of kaiju viscera before his cane is already slipping out from underneath him and sending him tumbling to the ground with a startled cry.

“Hermann!” Newt yelps, diving forward in a vain attempt to catch the other, but he’s too slow and there’s a nasty sound as Hermann’s head hits the ground. 

What follows next is a combination of things—Newt’s knees painfully hitting the ground as the laws of physics take over and he finishes his dive, flailing for a moment, and then he wobbles on his knees, hissing in pain, and falls over on Hermann.

“Oof,” Newt groans.

The impact seems to be enough to wake the other, though, because, a moment later, there’s a dry cough. “Er—pardon me...? You’re, erm, laying on me...” Hermann trails off, picking his head up from the ground as best as he can and staring at Newt with a baffled expression, and then adds, consideringly, “not that I mind terribly much—”

“Oh, shit, Herms, I’m sorry,” Newt exclaims, scrambling to get up. “I—sorry, man, feel free to, uh, yell at me—no need to be polite—”

“Why would I _yell_ at you?” Hermann asks. “I mean,” he continues, “you were laying on me, yes, but you seem to be a rather nice man, as far as I can tell.”

Newt’s brain comes to a screeching halt. “C—come again?” he chokes out, and Hermann gives him a raised brow.

“Well, I haven’t the faintest idea of who you are, but you don’t seem half-bad, though you _could_ possibly dress more professionally.”

Newt pulls off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and slides down to sit on the ground, giving a slightly hysterical laugh. Of course Hermann, even with amnesia, is criticising his grooming habits.

It’s almost comforting.

Hermann, by now, has noticed something’s off—he’s standing, now, having picked up his cane and gotten to his feet, and he takes a step towards Newt. “Are you alright?” he asks, biting his lip. “I didn’t— _insult_ you or anything, did I?”

“No, no,” Newt says, shaking his head almost violently. “Just...Hermann, bud, I need a moment, and then we need to get you to medical, _stat._ ”

“Ah,” Hermann says, “is there something wrong?”

Newt laughs again, feeling horribly helpless. “Yeah,” he says, “just a little bit.”

* * *

“Well,” says Anako, “he’s _physically_ just fine.”

“Comforting,” Newt says, drily, and then ducks out of the way of their tongue-depressor. “Hey!” he says, “you just stuck that in Hermann’s _mouth!_ ”

“I’ll show you where _else_ I’ll stick it if you don’t stop being a fucking _moron_ ,” Anako retorts. “Oh, wait—you _won’t_ because you’re _Newton Geiszler_.” And then they hit him with it again, this time landing it, and Newt sighs.

“Look,” he says, “can you just tell me what I need to do?”

“Invent time-travel,” Anako says. “Wait—no, don’t do that. Just—make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. Show him around again. As far as I can tell, it’s temporary—he should get his memories back within the next few days, a month at most, but just in case, you should catch him up as much as you can.”

That makes Newt grimace. “Fun,” he says. “Uh—how much did he lose?”

“What am I, an answer-machine?” Anako snaps, “ask him yourself, Geiszler. I _do_ have better things to do than deal with the comedy of errors that you leave in your wake. Now, take him and _go._ ”

“Oh, good,” Hermann, who’s been sitting silently on the medical cot for the past twenty or so minutes, pipes up. “I’ve gotten rather peckish.”

“Take him out,” Anako says, and ignores Newt’s indignant sputtering. “Dick tells me there’s a nice hole-in-the-wall that just opened down by where Chau used to keep shop.”

Newt sighs again. “Right,” he says, “c’mon, Herms— _Hermann_ , let’s get going.”

Hermann gives a little hum and gets down, grabbing his cane and following after Newt. “So,” he says, as they walk, “you never _did_ mention your name.”

Newt startles. “Oh—right,” he says, with an awkward laugh. “Uh, sorry, I just—didn’t think of it, since we’ve been around each other so long. I’m—I’m Newt. Um, Newton Geiszler.”

The mathematician comes to a halt. “ _Newton?_ ” he says, wide-eyed, “surely—no—but you must be—? _My_ Newton?”

Newt shoves aside the twisty feeling in his stomach. “I mean, unless you know any _other_ Newt Geiszlers,” he says. “Yeah, it’s me, in the flesh. Like...nine years later, but,” he shrugs and doesn’t add more, unsure of how to continue.

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann says, again, and his voice is almost—reverent? No, Newt must’ve misheard. “I am _so_ very glad to finally meet you!” He beams.

Newt feels vaguely sick. “Yeah,” he says, and wonders why this all feels so awful. “Look, uh—I should probably clear this up before we get any farther along but...you hate me.”

Hermann makes a sound of protest. “That can’t _possibly_ be true,” he says, “we get along _quite_ well—”

“In _letters_ , yeah,” Newt says, flatly. “Not...not so much in person.” _I can’t really blame you, though,_ he doesn’t say, because that’s not particularly fair. “It’s...complicated. But I don’t think it’s fair to you to _not_ tell you.”

“Hmm,” says Hermann. “Well, I appreciate the thought, however, I currently rather _like_ Newton Geiszler.”

“We should get you food,” Newt says, pointedly not saying anything in response to that.

They do.

Anako was right; the place, despite being what would optimistically be called _grungy_ and realistically called _a fucking food-safety hazard_ , has _fantastic_ dumplings, and Newt re-orders it once he’s done with his first serving.

He’s just about to spear another dumpling when, unexpectedly, a pair of chopsticks grabs it right out of his bowl, and he looks up to find Hermann contentedly nibbling away at it.

He makes an offended expression. “ _Dude?_ Seriously?” he whines, “I was going to _eat_ that.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Hermann says, and steals another one as Newt sputters at him, and they nearly get into an argument about it then and there, before, of all things, Hermann shrugs and says “I’ll just order you some more.”

Eventually, though, they settle into something almost like small-talk, and Newt finds himself smiling at Hermann’s words. “This is nice,” he says, half-forgetting he’s not alone.

Hermann gives him a quizzical look. “Like I said, we don’t usually get along,” Newt explains, and gives a single-shouldered shrug.

“I still can’t believe that,” Hermann says, “but alright. I’m rather enjoying this as well.”

Newt starts coughing violently. “I’m fine,” he manages, “sorry, I think I—got something stuck—”

“Water?” Hermann offers, and passes him his own glass. Newt gulps it down eagerly. “Perhaps we ought to get back to the Shatterdome—it _is_ getting rather late.”

“Er, yeah,” Newt mumbles. “Yeah, probably.”

It’s— _weird_ , honestly, walking back. For Newt, at least—Hermann seems unaffected, but Newt can’t help but feel like he’s witnessing some alternate timeline with Hermann being so... _nice_ to him. 

He shows Hermann the way to his rooms, and then hovers awkwardly as Hermann roots through his frankly unreal number of pockets to try and find his keys. “Ah!” he exclaims, finally. “Well, this is goodnight then, I suppose, Newton. I, ah, had a lot of fun. We should...do it again, maybe?”

“Sure,” Newt says.

“Wonderful,” Hermann says, beaming widely. “It’s a date then.” And then he closes the door, leaving Newt in the hallway.

Newt rolls his eyes. Of course Hermann had to choose _the_ least fitting term for— _that_.

* * *

“Good morning,” Hermann says, when Newt comes into the lab, late, as usual. “I grabbed you a cup of coffee on my way down—I hope your order hasn’t changed since, well...” he trails off.

Newt blinks at him. “Uh, no,” he says, and picks up the cup. “That’s...really nice of you? Thanks?”

The other nods. “I thought I should show you my appreciation for what you’ve done for me,” he says. “And, er, I always _did_ promise I’d get you one.”

“Thanks,” Newt says again, and tries not to fall over from sudden-onset dizziness with no discernable cause.

After that, they mostly just stick to their own sides of the lab—Newt has work, and Hermann’s trying to see if he can get caught up to date on his own work—so Newt almost manages to believe it’s just another normal day in the lab, just...with less yelling.

Though, to be fair, there’s been much less actual yelling since the Drift, which is another thing Newt doesn’t know quite how to approach. Or quite how it makes him _feel_ , honestly, so he, in what he is wildly aware is a classic Geiszlerian move, shoves it all to the back of his mind and pretends it doesn’t exist.

The next few days go similarly—Hermann being weirdly _nice_ to Newt—complimenting his clothing, his hair, even, once, his _tie_ , which, the _fuck_ , and getting and/or making him coffee in the mornings, and inviting him out to eat.

It’s...almost like they’re friends.

Newt...likes it. Well, no, scratch that, he’s absolutely, to use Hermann’s terms, _chuffed_ about it, frankly. It’s everything he imagined when they were still close—more, almost, and that weird twisty feeling that seeing Hermann’s letters in his mailbox used to give him is back full-force, though Newt is pretty sure that it’s just some sort of food poisoning.

He’s actually just about to reach for this morning’s cup of coffee when he accidentally knifes the kaiju sample he’s working on wrong, and there’s a moment where, if this were a movie, things would go all slow-mo and zoom in on his horrified expression while the viewer gets a horrible sense of impending doom, but as is, there’s just a hiss, a violent _bang_ , and the next moment Newt is covered in...kaiju bits. 

He spits one out. “Well,” he says, “I guess we know how _that_ tastes, now.”

Unfortunately, though _he’s_ just fine, he’s also _in his room_ because Newt has a bad habit of taking stuff back to his place when he needs a change of scenery (he _did_ bring the coffee with him though, because frankly he needed it), and he’s not at all above doing kaiju-poking in his living quarters, and his room is absolutely _plastered_ with the same stuff that’s all over him—thankfully neutralised, but still an absolute _mess_.

“Lovely,” he groans. He can’t exactly _leave_ because he’ll drip all over the place, and his closet was open so all his clothes are covered in it, too, so he can’t _change_.

A moment later, there’s a knock on his door. “Newton? Are you alright?” Hermann asks. “I thought I, ah, felt something...” he trails off.

Right; Drift bond. Useful, that.

Newt pulls off his glasses and tries to squint his eyes enough that he can kind of see, even though his eyelashes are _covered_ in the gunk. “Uh, yeah,” he says, “I’m just...well...”

The door creaks open.

“Oh, dear,” Hermann says, after a moment.

“Yeah,” Newt agrees.

“I’ll get someone to deal with this,” Hermann sighs. 

In the end, Newt’s room is out of commission for at least the next week while they try and clean it up. Hermann very generously offers him a change of clothes, and lets Newt shower in his room, which is pretty swell of him.

It’s when Newt pulls out his phone—thankfully his jeans pocket protected it—and begins to look for a hotel to stay that Hermann frowns at him. “What are you _doing?_ ” he asks.

“Uh, looking for a room?” Newt says, “I mean, mine’s, well, you know,” he gestures at Hermann’s ceiling. “ _Not_ habitable.”

“Yes, and that’s why I was going to offer for you to stay with me,” Hermann says, patiently, like’s trying to explain the concept of infinity to a three-year-old. 

“ _What?_ ” Newt practically shrieks.

“Er, unless you’d rather _pay_ for a hotel room—” 

“Nope, no, sorry, I—just— _surprised_ ,” Newt croaks, and desperately tries to fucking speak. He pointedly does _not_ analyse _why_ he’s suddenly so opposed to staying in a hotel. It’s the cost. It’s totally the cost—it’s not like he’s getting paid fantastically _now_ , and he doesn’t really have a lot savings-wise, given he spent the last three or so years working for near-free to try and stop the apocalypse.

“Mm,” Hermann says. “I’ll get you an extra pillow.”

“Thanks,” Newt says. “Uh—I’ll take the floor.”

Hermann stops. “What,” he says flatly.

“The...floor?” Newt says, “I mean, you don’t have a sofa or anything.”

“I have a _bed_ ,” Hermann says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “One plenty big enough for _two._ And I’m _not_ letting you insist that you don’t want to bother me—though I may not _remember_ it, the Drift we apparently shared has made it so that I would prefer to be as close to you as physically possible.”

Ah; right. “Yeah, fair enough,” Newt concedes. “Uh—thanks, Hermann.”

It takes a bit of positioning—Hermann’s bed is really _not_ nearly big enough—but eventually, they both have decent-ish portions of the bed, and Hermann’s leg isn’t in an uncomfortable position, and, actually, Hermann was right, the whole Drift-induced touch-starvation thing really _is_ there, for Newt, too, so he doesn’t begrudge Hermann it when he curls into him in his sleep.

It’s weird—Hermann has barely said anything about his memories, beyond occasionally mentioning things that hadn’t realised were different (the US president, the price of cigarettes, and the idiocy of having reporters try and corner him for an interview among them), and Newt could _almost_ mistake him for the same person if he weren’t so...weirdly _nice_.

Not that Newt’s _complaining_ —Hermann’s paying for all of the times they go eat out, and Newt’s not an idiot who’s about to complain about free food.

Hermann lets out a soft snuffle in his sleep and curls closer to Newt, and Newt’s stomach twists again. Damn, what is this, week _two?_ This stomach-bug is _crazy_.

He does eventually fall asleep, though, which is good, because he’s tired as _fuck_.

* * *

“Good morning,” Hermann says, “kindly remove your arm from my midsection so I can use the loo.”

Newt grumbles incoherently for a moment, barely cognizant, and then says, “That’s _the_ most fucking stupid thing I’ve heard you say in a while. The _loo_. Wow. Anglophile, much?”

“I attended Oxford for a year,” Hermann says, “one’s bound to pick up the idiosyncrasies of the region.”

“Sure,” says Newt, but pulls his arm back to let Hermann clamber up and go use the toilet.

It’s then, slowly, waking up, that Newt has a very odd though: _There’s something very nice about waking up beside Hermann Gottlieb_.

“What the fuck?” he murmurs. “Where did _that_ come from?”

He tries to analyse it further, but just hits a dead end, and then his stomach twists _again_ , and, fuck, if he throws up in Hermann’s bed he is _not_ going to be a happy camper.

By the time his stomach has finally settled, Hermann’s already come out of the bathroom and pulled out a change of clothes and begun to strip and change. Newt politely looks in the other direction—just because Hermann’s letting him stay a few days doesn’t mean he wants to be stared at. Not that Newt _would_ stare at him, or anything. 

“Here,” says Hermann, after a few more minutes pass, and sets a change of clothes on the bed by Newt’s side.

“Thanks, man,” Newt says, and makes off into the bathroom himself to wash his face and get changed.

Hermann’s clothes are frustrating, frankly, with all of their fucking— _buttons_ and shit, but Newt manages to get them all on. It’s still surprising to him that they don’t fit _too_ badly. He drags a hand through his hair and checks his reflection in the mirror. Not bad, if he does say so himself.

When he steps out, Hermann turns to look at him and frowns. “The shirt isn’t tucked in,” he says. “Here—let me—” and then he’s standing right in front of Newt and undone the pants, tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration, and he smoothes the shirt down and re-buttons and zips the pants.

“There,” he says, nodding in satisfaction, and pats Newt’s shoulder before stepping away. “You look rather nice, by the way.”

Newt struggles to breathe. “T—thanks,” he croaks.

The rest of the day seems to pass in a haze—Newt’s doing things, sure, but he’s not really _there_ . He feels clammy and a bit off-kilter and, god, he _really_ hopes he doesn’t have a fever because that would suck, and it would also mean _Hermann_ is probably infected now, too, considering they _shared a bed_.

Later that night, when they’re both in their pyjamas, Hermann says, suddenly, “Newton, I’d like to tell you something.”

Newt raises a brow. “Shoot,” he says.

“Er—I’d rather like to...” The other makes a complicated twisting motion with his wrists, and then cocks his head and, ears red—he forgot to turn the heater on and the room’s still pretty cold—, “sleep with you.”

Newt laughs. “Dude,” he says, “we do. At night? I mean your bed _sucks_ , frankly, but we _do._ ”

Hermann gives him a flat stare. “ _Sex_ , Newton,” he says. “I’d like to have _sex_.”

“Oh, don’t we all,” Newt commiserates. “Wait—are you, like, lowkey kicking me out to have someone over? Because if so, you should just _say_ it. And also, good for you, have fun, stay safe, yada yada blah blah blah anyway let me just grab my phone and I’ll be out of your hair and you can have fun.” He gives a cheery grin and a wave, not giving too much thought to Hermann’s confused expression, and turns the door, pulling it closed behind him as softly as he can.

For some reason, he feels... _weird_ about the thought of Hermann having someone over, but the dude’s a grown man and can choose to do whatever he wants on his free-time, and it _is_ his room, so.

Newt’s stomach twists again, and he scowls. He _really_ should get that checked out— _actually_ , he can go do that _now_ ; medbay is open 24/7 and even if he has to wait a while, his—well, technically _Hermann’s_ —pyjamas are plenty warm and he has his phone so he can entertain himself.

He only runs into a few people on the way there, none of whom, thankfully, pay him really any attention.

“Heeeey, doc,” he greets, hanging onto the side of the door-frame.

“Geiszler,” Anako says, and gives a long-suffering sigh. “What the _hell_ have you done now?”

“Hey!” Newt scowls, “one, how dare you assume I’ve _done something_ , and two, _actually_ , I’m here because I think I have some sort of weird stomach bug.”

“Hmm,” the doc says, “well—take a seat.”

“It’s weird,” Newt chatters as they press a stethoscope to his chest, “I mean, it seems to come and go? The first time was the day that Hermann got, uh, bamboozled, and it _keeps_ happening, and I don’t _think_ I’ve eaten anything bad, but it just keeps getting _worse_ and my stomach is twisting like I’m going to throw up—ow! Hey!”

He frowns at them, rubbing where they’ve hit his head. “What was _that_ for?”

“Newton Geiszler,” Anako says, pulling off their glasses with a sigh, “you are _the_ most moronic person I’ve had to deal with since the board came in here to try and demand I release patient files.”

“Hey!” Newt says again. “First Hermann kicks me out after telling me he wants to have sex, and now you’re _hitting me—_ ”

“Christ,” Anako mutters. “I am _only_ going to say this _one_ time, so listen up: the universe is _shoving_ good things in your direction so _open your eyes_ and take advantage of them, you _moron!_ ”

“What the _fuck_ are you on about?” Newt asks, bewildered. “Look, I just came in here for a checkup—”

“You’re not _sick!_ ” Anako nearly shouts, and then adjusts their volume, tone slightly more sympathetic. “Well— _lovesick_ , maybe, but _physically_ you’re just fine.”

“...what.” Newt says, flatly.

“You are _in love_ with Hermann,” Anako snaps. “And, judging by, well, _everything_ , I’d say it’s _mutual_ . God, you’re giving me a _headache_ . Get the fuck out of my medbay until you’re actually _sick,_ please.”

“I...what...” Newt stutters, trailing to a halt, and Anako less-than-gently shoves him out the door. “What the fuck,” he whispers, dazedly.

He winds up wandering around, only half-paying attention to where he’s going, trying to process—well, _everything_ , and then winds up on the roof, sees the stars, thinks, _oh Hermann likes the stars_ , and then goes _, oh, fuck, I love Hermann. I might be_ in _love with Hermann_.

Well.

_Well._

He’d go back to Hermann’s right away, but it seems impolite—he should probably give the other at _least_ another hour of peace and quiet with whichever dude he’s seduced.

He shivers. It’s pretty cold up here. Maybe he should go back inside.

He does. The cafeteria sucks and is creepy as fuck at night but there’s a coffee-machine so he can at least have _that_.

His phone informs him it’s half past one in the morning when he pulls it out after it vibrates in his pocket. Hermann’s texted him.

_Where are you?_

_Are you alright?_

Newt frowns. Whatever he had planned must not have panned out—it’s only been about an hour and a half since he left; two max.

Either way, he’s not going to turn down the offer to go back.

When he opens the door—quietly, he doesn’t want to wake Hermann up if he’s fallen asleep—, he finds Hermann sitting in the singular chair in the room.

He looks up at the sound of the door opening. “Ah—Newton,” he says, “I was a bit. Worried about you.”

“Just went to get checked for a bug in the medbay,” Newt says. “How did, uh, your...thingy go? Was he nice?”

Hermann blinks at him silently for a moment, and then, as if only just realising what Newt’s talking about, says, “ _Ah_. Actually, can you—can you sit down? I want to...talk about something.”

“Sure,” Newt says, and sits, feeling a little wobbly, on the edge of the bed. 

“Newton,” Hermann says, “I’m very, very fond of you.”

“...that’s nice?” Newt says. “I mean, I like you too, man, you’re a great—um, friend. Or—well, you’re not but _you_ are. Normal-you isn’t. Anyway.”

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann says, again, and sighs. “I am... _very_ fond of you. I would like to kiss you. And take you on dates. And have _intimate_ relations with you.”

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. “Yeah, uh, that’s great, but I can’t in good faith say _yes_ since you’re still, you know, missing memories and shit.”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “I am _not_ ,” he says. “As a matter of fact, as of...three days ago? I am fully myself.”

“You’re _what?_ ” Newt nearly shrieks. “You—what—and you didn’t _tell_ me?”

“Why _should_ I?” Hermann snaps. “It’s not like I was _hurting_ you. And you just...you seemed to _like_ me so much better when you thought I didn’t remember things...” he trails off sadly. “I didn’t—I didn’t want it to _change_ , alright? I’m—I’m _selfish_.”

“ _Because I liked the thought that you didn’t hate me!_ ” Newt shouts.

“ _I don’t!_ ” Hermann shouts back. “I _never have!_ I’ve _loved you!_ ”

Newt snaps his mouth shut and stares at Hermann. “You... _what?_ ” he croaks.

“Yes!” Hermann snaps. “I’m sorry if that—that’s a _problem_ , alright, Newton, but I thought...I thought we were turning a new leaf and...and trying again, and I just...” he trails off; sighs. “If you’d rather, I can book you a hotel-room—I’ll pay—”

“No, no, hold on a minute,” Newt says, raising a hand. “Sorry, just—let me...process.”

Hermann purses his lips but falls silent.

“Okay,” Newt says, finally, “I’ve come to the conclusion that I am a _fucking_ idiot.”

“As if that’s _news,_ ” Hermann mutters, with an eye-roll, and Newt shushes him.

“I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart here, man, hold back the sarcasm for a moment.” He takes a deep breath. “Anyway. I was saying. I’m a fucking idiot, because I’ve loved you for at _least_ five years, and I only just realised it tonight.”

“Well, that’s...” Hermann trails off.

“Yeah,” Newt nods.

“Well,” Hermann says again. “Er.”

“Uh, is your earlier point still valid?” Newt asks. “About the, uh, kissing, I mean. And—and the rest of it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hermann says, and rises, an awkward half-smile on his face, and then he makes his way over to Newt and sits down by his side and puts his palm on Newt’s cheek. “Would you like to...?”

“Absolutely,” Newt says, the word fervent, and Hermann leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
